Katie Schwartz

Right? For once my people ain't takin' the heat. Thanks for sending, Lewch .

So, yeah. okay. dish. Today, a friend of mine was driving along the highway minding her own business when some cuntola tried to sidle into her lane without signaling. She was going 55, and had to act quickly, you know how you do. She honked. Not long, not loud, short and quick. The lane stealing snatch called her fehatty. Fehatty! She's not fat. Chuvvy, yes. STILL. That's not really the point. Here is the point in my humble opinion when I've been called fehatty. It makes me feel soooo bad. As if fehatty-name-calling-snatchcookie called me the following one-liners: Stupid-fat-and-poor. Dirty-fuck-baby. And. Slovenly-bad-ass-wiper. It's okay to say fat. Chuvvy. Not a skinny minny. A chub on the low (meaning losing weight). Semi-Spheereena. Those I could live with. But, fehatty?! Ah, God, it's the worst. Cuntest updates from the Cuntessa (I cackle-snorted when I wrote that. Shame). I got the most di-viiiine PSA from the diva at PulpFriction . Her blog is so politicall...

Ahhhkay, here's the deal. I'm striving for change, so, you know, I'm changing everything in my life, as many things as possible, from the minutia to the extreme to achieve a greater good within myself. No, I'm not becoming creeparella-hemptress. Breathe. Come on now, it's me! In the midst of all of this self imposed change, there's this one thing that I can't seem to part with: my altoids tin. I've used this tin as my wallet for years (Frannygirl's seen it and I think Bubbsie, too), I'm talking 10 years we've been together. There is a lot of personal significance and meaning for me with this fuckin' tin (the shame... I know). The a-tin represented a time in my life when I felt the most free, when things in my life were so close to exactly the way I wanted them to be. There was accelerated movement in all areas of my life. I find myself wondering many things at the mineee... Am I afraid if I let it go, I'm giving up the concept that po...

I finally got the chairs I wanted on Craigslist. OddChairBoy delivered two of the most divine 100-year-old chairs evah on Saturday afternoon. I got both chairs for 60 duckets, isn't that amazing?! I was plotzarella, too. I've always been so wildly in love with these chairs. They were so far out of my price range though, that I couldn't swing'em. I wonder how many asses sat on these chairs in the past hundy years, what decisions they made, how many of those tooh-chai were happy, how many hearts were broken, how many people laughed, wrote, spun a few verbal yarns. Perhaps that's why I adore vinty tchoch as much as I do. I like to imagine the history of each piece. Schwartzy is out to run errands and bust a few chops along the way. Have a beautiful Sunday, dollies. PS: Moon River (my favorite song) just popped on the pod. Bliss.

What is going on with my Karma?! I'm not cunty dame, or so I'd like to think. So, what the fuck?! The past few days I've been in Karmic hell and my K-Rolodex is yielding no insight. I'm trying to dig deep and figure it out. Let's begin with the chair Odyssey. Today, I schlepped my ass in 90 degree weather to a chair joint. My car doesn't have air conditioning, it's a vinty number, over 30-years old. Love it. Schlepped it from NY and I'm not giving it up, period. Anywho. I met with the owners of the chairs I wanted. Lovely black and white 7o's high camp chairs. I was thrilled, hoping to walk out of their with my new chairs. Mind you, I had cash in hand ready to complete my transaction. The owners sat me down with a clipboard in hand. A fucking clipboard. Their house was hotter than it was outside. God forbid they crack a window or use a fan. GOD FORBID. I admit it, I was a bit snippy. But, nice. Keeping my snippiness to a low roar. I pushed sarcasm a...

It's August, 2nd, 2008 and I have been doing a lot of thinking. Please, I spend so much time in my head, I blew " oy vey " away 10-years ago and replaced it with " oy gevalt ". Seriously, yo. I'm a brain dwelling freak'o nature, which wouldn't be so terrible if I wasn't a raging insomniac. I haven't really slept properly in about a week. What sleep deprived person do you know has perspective? I've been an irritable snatcharella on wheels. I know it and you know it. Impossible to communicate with in any meaningful fashion. God willing, I'll sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I'll wake up feeling, oh, I don't know, human. I'd love to say, refreshed, but that's a stretch. I have never excelled in the art of sleep. It's never been my sport of choice. I envy those who can hit the pillow and fall hard. My sister is a great sleeper. I wish I had that gene. My ma says she had insomnia in her 30s, too and chalks it up to hormones. ...

I am listening to the Goodbye Girl on the pod. One of my favorite songs from one of my favorite movies. The kid and Richard Dreyfus do it for me in that flickundra, not Marsha Mason. Should I write a puzzle? I didn't fall asleep until midnight and when I popped up at 2ish, I was in the middle of a nightmare about being trapped in a crossword puzzle. I really love being continent. When my grandmother had a prolapsed uterus, she became incontinent. Worrying about my uterus becoming an accessory is now in the top 25 on my "Worry To Do List". Have you seen the movie Superbad ? That was a continent killer... Get it? "I laughed so hard, I peed." If Ellen Arkin married Adam Barkin and they spawned a fruit named Harkin, the kid's name would be Harkin Arkin Barkin. I can see it. The name screams rehab ready. He's almost three quarters of the way with the acronym HAB. I started reading one of Wade Agnew's poetry books "Solace For A Starving Naked Alone ...

On Friday, I started to feel sore-throaty and sinus burney. Know what I mean? Anywhoodle, by Saturday morning, my throat felt scrubbed with sandpaper by 50 midgets. My sinuses were in the epicenter of an erupting volcano . The hacking was akin to a crack addict who smokes Pall Mall non-filters in between fixes. That said.... Sunday, the games continued, menses began. All I needed was a yeast infection, and as a friend noted this morning, I would've had a trifecta. Though I rarely take penicillin for fear of developing an immunity to it, I caved and called my doctor for a Zpack and a cough suppressant. I am on the mend, fab . Downside, the cough suppressant had an opiate (who knew?!). I am opiate intolerant unless I take it with an anti-nausea back. What a weekend. By tomorrow I should feel like a brand spankin' new Jew. It's time for Katie to make herself horizontal again. More dish latah.

This afternoon, while checking traffic on my sitemeter, I saw a ginormous banner that read, Macaroni and Cheese Contest -- Win $5,000 -- Sponsored by Tillamook Cheddar Cheese . "The Grand prize winner will receive $5,000 cash, 25 pounds of Tillamook® cheese, plus other various prizes." Evil. Evil. Evil. I miss, no, I ache for cheese and pine for pasta. Not the gluten free shit, either. Real, white flour, thick, gorgeous, robust, horrific for you, noodlays. I have a homemade, heart stopping recipe for macaroni and cheese courtesy of ma Schwartzy. Can you imagine winning 5K and 25 pounds of cheese?! I'd plotz, scream and cry extra sharp cheddar tears of unbridled joy. Who cares... It's just cheese. Who needs cheese, right? Right. I love being vegan. Besides, I'm PMS'ng. Even though my cravings are out of control, I'm not. Keep telling yourself that, Schwartz, maybe it'll sink in. Okay, I will. Fine . Fine.

We have a local parking nazi inside a mini-strip mall sitch. This man who owns the Westside Market also owns three parking spaces. He's allocated 5 minutes for visitors, to get in and get out. The minute you pull into your spot, before exiting your car, he is SCREAMING at you to make sure your planning to buy something. If you aren't, he berates you like the dirty fuck baby you are while smirking like the rat bastard he is. "Get the fuck out of that spot unless (beat for tonal change) you plan to buy something here." P-Notz stalks his three spots every minute of every day. He's more concerned about you parking in his spaces than he is with you boosting his product. Yesterday, we stopped in at Cingular. The lot was slammed. I told Ker to park in one of the Nazi's p-spaces. While getting out of the car, I told him I was coming to him. As he saw Kerri head to Cingular, he snarled (pigfucker). I said, "Breathe, I'm buying something, gaaaaaaaaahd." ...

Katie in May at Pilcrow and now, technically yesterday. Spill, can we see the 30 pound weight loss in her face? Any of it? Kerri, making my favorite field-reporter-face below, says yes. I disagree. Too close to the situation? Hmm... Payhaps.

This week started out curiously , not bad, not good, more like beige . I can live with beige, it's practical, efficient and sensible. Not all weeks are going to be fabulous , and, hi, I'm not a fucktard, I'll take beige over horrific any day . Right? Right. Sadly, the last few days of my beigey little week morphed, hard . Kind of like being tossed into the film "My Private Idaho" without the, but-the-seizures-feel-so-good , moments, and the exquisite, albeit creepy , " Reqium for a Dream", dream sequences. I was forced into wearing a, hello-clarice-muzzle and porn-ball-gag, so I wouldn't roar, "FUCK-YOU-FUCK-THIS-FUCK-EVERYTHING." " SUCK-MY-MOTHAH'-FUCKIN-DICK." I'm a peenqueen, not a peenbasher, this we can awwwwl agree on, yes? Great. I need five minutes, please, to vent about one very specific peen, please, thank you. Peenestros e-stalked me twice. Three minutes later because I hadn't yet received or responde...

Flaunt your beautiful boobies for Boobiethon this year and/or make a donation. Ya like em'? You want keep em'? Save em'. It's been a surreal few days. I think my family is fast becoming a poorly made, goyisha revision of The Thornbirds. I just need a gay priest to fall in love with. Know any? I've also been fielding questions about the whereabouts of The Kid . I'm trying to handle it graciously. My responses are contingent upon my mood. It's just too overwhelming sometimes to engage in deathversations. There are two questions that bug the shit out of me. How did he die? I am guilty of asking that one, too. The second one I wouldn't dream of asking, How old was he ? As if a certain age justifies the death. I know. I know. I know, everyone deals with death their own way. Sing that song and dance somewhere else, sister. By Sunday, I was on dead dog overload, so when I was asked how The Kid was doing, I said, he's fine . The guy responded and said, I...

hot damn, what a weekend. what-a-weekend. I learned a lot. wrote a lot. cried a lot. shut the fuck up. cunts with moxie have feelings, donchya know. vulnerability is just not my thing. it's become a recent bedfellow. perhaps we'll one day even learn to live side-by-side. I'm not holding my breath either. in the end, I feel good. real good and that's a beautiful thing. my neighbor changed her curtains. this is of great concern to me. does she think I'm peeking into her bedroom? I am, but not intentionally. I can't see in anyway. I just tend to stare out my window when I'm thinking. plus, her curtains are never open, so what's with the nazi panel she's cooked up?!?!?! whatev. she's a freak. she says she only opens her windows during the summer. HI. ONE WINDOW DOES NOT AN OPEN HOUSE OF WINDOWS MAKE, COOKIE. look my way. every window is open. why? because I'm a fresh air whore all year round. I know and appreciate the meaning of fresh air. she...

talk about a fuckin weird ass day. no. really. weird. someone stole my fuckin' chair and I'm really pissed off about it. I think it was one of the hh's or my new shoulda-been-fabulous gaybor. here's the scoop: right in front of my door, in the hallway, I have a 1950's table with two vinty black chairs. they don't belong to me. I have a giant note on them that says, please do not take these. I am delivering them to someone. sorry for the inconvenience, schwartzy. well, today when my sister was on her way out, we noticed my table was ajar and one of the chairs was MIA. I said, someone stole my fucking chair?! can you believe that? I'm a dead woman. I am so grossed out and skeeved by that, I can't even tell you. I'm going to knock on his fucking door and if my chair is there, I'm stealing it back, so there! new topic I'm almost certain two eggs dropped this menses because I'm bleeding like it's going out of style. If I knew it was donat...

I've been thinking about pick-up lines today. I'd love to go up to a man at a bar and say, know where I can find an std as fine as you ? I'd also like to say to a gardener, I'm looking for a mild vaginal infection, what can I plant in my canal to grow one ? I said a had a pulse, not that I was right in the head.

Shalom beautiful babies, I’ve surpassed exhausted only to graduate into the likes of a 90s wannabe-SUV Subaru with a burgundy exterior and a beige cloth interior with that look-at-me-bitches bumper-to-bumper taupe trim piping. I am so ready to be horizontal, I can’t even tell you. I’ve slept maybe 10 hours total since Saturday. insomnia— moving— day yob… writing? I wish. I need more time to write. Argh. I’ve been experiencing an outpouring of words. love that, it’s very channeling via fingertips. I am craving more writing time, so you bet your sweet fat/thin/chuvvy ass I’ll make it! The move was great. new digs are fabulous. Will post pre-chach photos and post-chach photos once I figger out how to use my sister’s digi. I only shoot on a vinty 35MM. photography is the only area of my life I won’t go high tech. super dinosaur. Super stupid, I know. one casualty, a 50 cent vinty pink serving dish not worth anything more than I paid for it, but I loved it. I got the strangest email from a...

well, this day sucks ass. no. really. it does. -- remember that phrase, a lady in waiting. it's not applicable. it's just a thought. -- defense megacenter huntsville : I'm just curious about the use of megacenter . is it really necessary to call a defence center mega? i t's not implied? -- leewee did post for us. she pulled some oldies but goodies . the god diet. big closet fun with j-dawg. the jews. and, of course the usual submissive leepee jerk off material we've all come to know and love. -- I'm off to edit, feel shamefully forlorn and wallow in deep, DEEP frustration.